


shot in the dark, light up my heart

by johnshuaa



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Lovers, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, M/M, No one dies dw, Ten is an asshole, doyoung is the bad guy, kun and winwin hate their lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-11-24 20:22:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20913563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnshuaa/pseuds/johnshuaa
Summary: The moment the President assigned Lucas and Ten in the same mission, Kun began filling in his resignation form, because no way in hell is he going to listen to endless flirting through his earpiece for such a meager paycheck.





	shot in the dark, light up my heart

**Author's Note:**

> haha i love writing pretentious but soft characters :))
> 
> working title: hit me baby one more time ;)

Ten practically has fumes puffing out his ears when he spots Lucas out of the corner of his eyes walking into the wrestling ring as if he owned the place.

He doesn’t mean to react like that, of course, at least not such an immediate act of distaste for someone he’s never properly met, but he can’t help it. Ten doesn’t make enemies. He makes an effort to be his cheeky little self 24/7, but never to the point to annoy people beyond compare. He holds himself back when he needs to, but when some tall, buff rookie agent comes into _ his _territory with that kind of overpowering aura, it just pisses Ten off.

Lucas, as he calls himself, is newly promoted, from what Ten has heard in the past weeks. The best of his year, deadliest aim the Academy has ever witnessed, most promising rising agent, blah blah blah. Maybe all those compliments got into his head, and that’s why he’s chatting up Hendery, Ten’s own, precious prodigy that he raised.

(_ It’s because Hendery and Lucas are in the same year, _ Winwin had whispered to Ten when he saw Ten’s jaw tense as he watched the two youngins interact. _ They were friends in the Academy. Calm down. _)

Ten turns his body from the newcomer, facing the prep table instead. He grabs a roll of white boxing grips, and pulls on its edge with his teeth; the satisfying rip of the material detaching from itself acts as a semi-comfort. His hands work on instinct, wrapping his palms efficiently.

“Ten, keep it together, you’re his senior anyways,” Winwin sighs when Ten cuts the end of the grip off and glares directly at Lucas as he does. It’s really not too intimidating, but the way Ten almost bares his teeth seems to make the other flinch. “_ Seriously, calm down _.”

“Well, tell him to wipe that smug look off his face before I carve it off,” Ten says. He carefully picks through his supply of knives, and chooses the one with rigid edges and a dragon sculpted into the handle. An all-time favorite. 

He heads to one of the silicon dummies lined up in the corner of the room, its body composition made to represent how knives would cut through flesh. Knife in hand, Ten proceeds to cut and jab at the head and torso of the dummy.

It’s exhilarating. The feeling of striking the skull of the dummy in a roundhouse kick with deadly accuracy, and then cutting layers deep into the neck, it all serves to fuel Ten even more. He can feel everyone turn to watch his training session; he was the best close-combat student of his year, after all, until he passed the test to finally, _ finally _ become an agent. His precision when it comes to punches and kicks, and then the power of his swing when he goes in for the final kill with the knife, are what makes him so much more intimidating beyond his petite body.

He doesn’t go in for the final chest stab, and instead, turns his face towards Lucas, cocking his head at him with a raise of an eyebrow, a challenge. Lucas visibly swallows a lump and bites his lip, nearly through the skin when Ten turns back, baring a snarl on his face when he launches the knife straight into the heart of the dummy. 

The students around him clap, awestruck. Ten doesn’t care, because he marching straight towards Lucas.

“Ten, don’t-“

Ten backs Lucas into the wall and drives his forearm against his neck, pushing on his Adam’s apple, and he hates that he has to look up to see the fear in his wide eyes.

“I challenge you to a match, rookie.”

Lucas glances to the agents around them, pleading for help, to no avail. Ten’s sure Winwin has a smug look on his face despite him trying to hold Ten down earlier.

“Can I say no?” Lucas squeezes out, quiet, maybe because he didn’t want the rest of the dojo to hear, or maybe because he just didn’t have enough air to speak.

“You can.” Ten loosens his hold on Lucas just a bit, so he doesn’t turn purple from lack of oxygen. “And suffer the shame for the rest of your time working here. People don’t forget someone stepping down from a challenge too easily.”

He seems to debate with himself for a moment, conflict flashing in his eyes. Lucas’s hands slowly go up over his head in surrender. “Fine, yes. I’ll fight.”

“Good.” Ten releases Lucas completely, and he nearly collapses to the ground. “You’ll regret that soon.”

  
  


It feels good to swing a fist at an actual person, conducting his energy from absolute distaste. He’s not a sadist, he swears, but the feeling of his heel flying into Lucas’s cheek, leaving a bruise for sure, that’s what makes Ten ecstatic. Lucas, as he had expected, serves as the perfect punching bag.

He doesn’t give Lucas the chance to block, just hits and hits and hits, and lets out everything that’s done him wrong in the past few weeks, from the mild annoyance when he ran out of milk that morning, to the fact that he was rejected a well-deserved promotion because they wanted a large agent team, and Ten would be stuck in charge of the rookies.

Ten’s not petty. It’s just hard to control himself sometimes.

For a little fun, Ten delays some of his punches, so Lucas can at least go down with some dignity knowing that he was able to get in a hit or two. Ten dodges the rest of his badly executed kicks, his form weak, and laughs to himself. 

If Lucas was the top of his class, then the Academy must have been suffering with its students that year.

It gets boring after a while, after Ten is sick of trying out some new moves on Lucas, who responds comically. Ten has places to be. After all, his time should be spent writing up boring reports that will at least increase his chances of getting a promotion, rather than making fun of a brand new agent.

He grabs Lucas by the forearms, pulling Lucas’s chest to his back, and bends his knees, putting most of his opponent’s weight into his shoulder. He uses that leverage to lift Lucas over his body, throwing him onto the mat with a loud thump. The crowd around him goes wild as Ten twists himself down to hold Lucas’s legs down with his body, one hand pinning Lucas’s wrists above his head against the floor, the other one dangling a twine bracelet in front of Lucas. He rubs a thumb over it, admiring its craftsmanship.

“It’s a nice bracelet. Would you mind if I kept it?” Ten smirks, quirking an eyebrow at the man underneath him. “It’ll fit well with my accessory collection.”

Lucas gulps, eyes shifting quickly to his own bracelet and the other four already dangling off Ten’s wrist, framing his precious watch. “Preferably not. But whatever gets you off of me, really.”

“Behave yourself around here, Wong. Don’t walk around like you own the place, or more of your belongings might just go missing,” Ten shrugs, pulling the bracelet on. It slinks halfway down his forearm, his wrist too thin to hold the circumference it’s adjusted to. 

“Next time you come here, remind yourself, this is _ my _ territory.” He rolls off of Lucas gracefully and stands, back turned to him. His pocket is slightly heavier with a newfound leather wallet in there, and a smirk is ready to take over his entire face when he hears Lucas patting down his pants with confusion.

  
  


Ten is well-trained in all aspects, which is how he graduated top of his class in the Academy, but he’s made his preference for close quarter combat very clear the moment he stepped into the espionage unit he was assigned to. If he had to choose, he would have placed hacking as his second favorite style of work, but long-distance was a weakness. It’s the one thing that he trained for hours and hours in, and still couldn’t excel as well as he had hoped. His instructor had told him that everything he does must be credited to himself, so Ten blames his eyesight for his inability to fire a bullet into someone’s skull more than twice in a row.

It’s therapeutic though, firing a gun and feeling the kickback run through his body, watching the bullet hit the target with deadly accuracy, and clicking a cartridge into place for another round of shooting.

In another life, maybe, he would have been as good of a marksman as he was in wrestling.

Ten takes the time to enjoy the sensation of the rough grip in his hand for as long as he can before he’s interrupted by a clearing of the throat, to which he turns to, annoyed, dropping the gun to his side as he sends a glare at the disturbance of his well-needed peace.

“Looks like we have a wild Ten out of his territory.”

Well, fuck.

He rolls his eyes and returns his attention to the shooting range, reloading and sending another five bullets into the paper target. 

Lucas is saying something, but with the dull ringing of exploding gunpowder muted by his noise-cancelling headphones, he couldn’t bother straining to listen.

But then he’s lifting one side of the headphones ever so slightly off Ten’s ear, and that just ticks him off even more. 

“Tennie,” Lucas singsongs.

The paper target flies towards them. Ten grimaces to himself. The bullets didn’t hit the same area as he hoped, instead, scattered across the chest randomly instead of near the heart of the victim. 

Ten tightens his hold on his shotgun, snapping around to aim it at Lucas, baring a growl, teeth and all. 

Lucas just puts his arms up in surrender, and even that action makes Ten want to kick him in the balls.

As Ten broods, gun still pointed threateningly at him, Lucas quickly snags Ten’s wrists, twisting them around in a way that isn’t intended to hurt, and seamlessly unarms him. He tucks the shotgun into his waistband, Ten’s mouth falling open.

“You forget, I also graduated top of the class.”

Lucas walks to the cupboard and glances through the selection, picking a rifle. He snatches a pair of headphones and protective glasses as well, slipping them on. He takes his place in the lane next to Ten.

He sends two clean shots, eyes solely concentrated on his target, and peeking over, Ten sees that it hits right in the brain, side by side. 

Lucas cocks his head to look at Ten. “Accuracy and precision. That’s always been my specialty.” The rifle rings again despite him not looking.

Ten scoffs. “We all need that, you aren’t special.”

“Well, looking at your own practice-” They glance at Ten’s paper again, and despite how long Ten took to aim, the shots are still messy. “-I’m just a _ bit _ special, maybe.”

Lucas adjusts his hold and closes his eyes. He shoots, one, two, three, and then opens one eye, pursing his lips at Ten.

He’s put a smiley face right into the target, the holes spaced practically perfectly across the head. Ten ties his features into a scowl.

“Showoff.”

Lucas puts the rifle on safety and sets it gently on the sill of the lane’s opening. “Ten, what’s your problem? Besides, I dunno, your ever growing hatred for me?”

“What makes you think I have a problem, huh?” He wants to bad to pin a knife against Lucas’s throat, make him bleed and lose his breath, ‘cause that seems to be the only way Ten can manage around him. And maybe he’s gone a little delirious now that a stranger has managed to tack onto his growing doubt for himself, that he needs a way to defend himself. After all, he’s always prefered hand-to-hand combat. “You think ‘cause I’m fucking perfect that I have a problem? Because I do.” He laughs, maniacally.

Lucas always seemed to be a happy puppy, from what Ten has observed from afar. He’s friendly to Hendery and Yangyang beyond compare, always joking with them, playing with them. He’s just a kid, after all, with two, three years less experience than Ten, two, three years less trauma. He’s yet to kill and have that blood on his conscious. 

Ten can only wish to get that back, but he’s had blood covering him, drowning him, since he was eighteen and dumb and unknowing.

But the Lucas now is nothing like that, it’s someone who’s been through the brutal training of the Academy, had his mind broken down by the tortuous interviews designed to mold minds into something unattainable, forced his body to suffer the painful blows that are meant to strengthen them. They all know, and it’s been ingrained in their heads, that information, in the end, is the most precious, valuable resource that they will all die for. Lucas is like that, cold, hardened, digging Ten’s brain for the answer he wants. The good cop has been put away.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You’ve never relaxed even once the entire time I’ve known you.” Lucas crosses his arms.

“Well, you don’t know me.” Behind Lucas’s shoulder is a cabinet filled with loaded practices guns and rifles that Ten is really tempted to raid now. “And I don’t think you’ll ever need to.”

Silence passes, and it scares Ten, ever so slightly.

“You’re the best field agent we have, Ten.” His voice is softer, and that’s what hurts the most. That he has to be taken carefully, treated gently.

“That doesn’t matter.”

Lucas pauses, and Ten can tell he’s evaluating the position they’re in, finding the next best step. A waltz has always been similar to a fight, just daintier. Both are familiar to Ten.

“You can’t achieve perfection. That just doesn’t work.”

His accuracy and precision are in shooting matches and interrogation, it seems. Ten’s underestimated him. He managed to hit spot-on on the first try.

“There’s always room for improvement,” Ten replies, nonchalant. 

“That’s bullshit.” There’s an annoying smirk playing at Lucas’s lips.

Ten’s legs take him backwards on their own accord, to get away from Lucas, to put distance that may save him, but he hits the wall, and Lucas is approaching him too.

“I’m not obligated to tell you anything.” Lucas is so close that Ten has to jut his chin up to look at him, their chests nearly pressed together. He puts a hand on the wall behind them, leaning his weight forward. If Lucas didn’t have the intention of ripping Ten’s head off, he would have found this compromising position rather pleasing.

“I know I’m right, though.” Maybe Ten’s loss in composure for a second is what gave it away, because a small smile makes its way onto Lucas’s lips. “Tell me. I’ll listen.”

The lack of distance between them feels like a chokehold, and he’s losing air, quick. And to escape unscathed, it meant telling him. At least, enough to get him off his back for the time being. 

“Opening up doesn’t bode well with me,” he settles for. “I’d rather be unattainable.”

“But why?”

Ten didn’t think it would be this hard. He hasn’t had to tell anyone since… he can’t even remember. “Because people in our field are complicated. And I have to hold myself in a way that won’t make me vulnerable and get me killed.”

Lucas furrows his eyebrows, his stare faltering. “But you can let _ us _ get close to you. Winwin, Kun, Hendery, everyone. We’re on the same team.”

“No.”

“Ten, it’s how to be _ human _.”

“It’s also cost me everything!” Ten seethes, and he senses tears prickling in his eyes. “Letting myself to people almost ruined me.”

Lucas’s mouth drops open at the confession, and Ten holds his eye contact. Strength behind the tears. He’s grown too used to it when he really shouldn’t. 

His voice is shaky now, and he focuses on the scent of cheap cologne and mint between them. “I hold myself like this for a reason, I hope you understand,” Ten manages. “I’m a selfish, pretentious bastard because that’s what keeps me going, Wong.”

He slips out from under Lucas’s arms, and he runs out of the shooting range.

  
  


“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Lucas flinches unceremoniously in his seat at Ten’s sudden outburst. Winwin, cross-legged on the seat next to him, snorts, covering his nose with a finger to hide the smirk. 

“No, we can’t- _ I can’t do this _.” Ten leans forward in his chair, stabbing a finger into the glass touchscreen of the table, displaying the full map of the headquarters they’re to infiltrate. “You can’t just-”

“You are a professional, Ten. It’s in the contract that you do as they instruct. Personal issues can’t come into play.” Xiaojun is keeping a straight face, but there’s a hint of fear behind his features, because Ten’s anger is a scary, scary thing that most of the agents have seen or heard of and never wanted to experience themselves.

Xiaojun holds on though, and as the President’s apprentice, he’s trained to handle agents like Ten who have a little too much to say.

“Xiaojun, you knew! _ You know _!” Ten jabs the screen once more, but resorts to directing his anger into balling his fists instead. He can’t afford it in his paycheck to break another piece of expensive technology. “I refuse to play the President’s stupid games. Count me out.” 

He doesn’t really mean it.

He stands, his chair falling backwards to the ground from the harsh movement, and he begins to storm out of the office.

“Ten, you can’t-” Yangyang calls out, the youngest of their crew for the coming mission. He’s just as much of a prodigy as Lucas, graduating an entire year early, but Ten’s long adopted him as a child rather than an opponent. “Ten, we need you here.”

“It’s not like you to back out of something.” There’s a hint of mirth in Winwin’s voice, because he knows too, he’s too close of a friend not to, and he’s always liked to push Ten’s buttons in a passive way, in situations Ten can’t possible fight back in. It’s infuriatingly smart.

“They’re right, it’s too late to back out now, especially since we’ve handpicked this team for this mission specifically. Must I remind you that your contract states-”

“I know what it says,” Ten cuts, and Xiaojun flinches. “And I don’t give a shit. Fire me, kill me, I don’t care. I’m not doing this.”

This time, he successfully leaves, despite Yangyang’s protests cut short by Winwin’s quick hand. 

His eyes burn, and a sob threatens to rip through his throat. Before he can draw it all back in, fix the cracks in the dam, it breaks, water rushes through, and he’s crying, hidden in an empty elevator. 

Years. Years upon years, throwing himself into training in the Academy, as if it’s the only string he’s got to hold on to, the chasm below death, the cliff atop life, or some semblance of it, at least. He would think that he’d learn from his mistakes at eighteen that had thrown his entire education off kilter, but it serves more as a knife to his throat rather than as a lesson. And this was the last straw.

The elevator stops on the third floor, and Ten wipes at his face the best he can, tilting his face towards the corner. As the doors slide open, though, he finds Lucas huffing, hands on his knees. “It’s me, isn’t it? Why you won’t accept the mission?” He coughs when he tries to catch his breath, and the door of the elevator begins to slide close.

Ten can’t move, but Lucas puts a foot in the crevice, stopping the doors. “I promise, I won’t be an asshole, you can ignore me the whole time, I don’t care. Just- don’t drop out. We need you.”

Lucas moves his foot back, a hopeful expression on his puppy dog face, the last thing Ten sees as the elevator door slides shut, and Ten doesn’t have the will to respond, frozen in his spot with the shock that Lucas would ever consider himself the single outrage that could possibly make Ten quit. He almost laughs at the mere thought of that. Ten lets the cart carry him down to the first floor. 

That’s enough time for him to pull himself back together. He steps out and heads straight for the stairs, which Lucas descends two steps at a time. Lucas stops at the bottom of the stairwell when he notices Ten in front of him, arms crossed and toe tapping on the marble to get his attention. 

“It’s not you, Lucas.” Ten’s words to him don’t have the usual bite to them.

Lucas halts. “Then what-”

“I was eighteen. I was dumb. I made some choices that could have destroyed my entire future.” Ten wraps his arms around his body. “I fell in love with a bad person who used me, and now I have to kill him.”

He takes another shaky breath, feeling the tears coming again. He’s not going to cry, though. “You don’t just fall out of love that easily.”

Ten didn’t expect Lucas to pull him into a tight hug, his arms wrapped around Ten’s shoulders. It’s warm, and nice, comforting to say the least. He sniffles into Lucas’s chest, letting his forehead rest there.

“I’m sorry. That you had to go through all that.” Lucas rubs his thumb along Ten’s upper arm, rough calloused hands against the soft skin there.

“It’s my own problem. Don’t apologize.”

“It’s more condolences than anything.”

Ten’s arms rise to sit around Lucas’s waist loosely, his fingers laced behind Lucas’s lower back. He closes his eyes, even when every instinct tells him that that’s dangerous. 

This is too familiar for Ten to be comfortable, but he tries to relax in Lucas’s arms, the embrace taking far too long for it to be just friendly. He remembers this same feeling of steady arms holding him, and that’s what scares Ten. Lucas’s arms are much stronger, a grounding force, but Ten is used to arms that loop around the back of his neck to crush his body. 

“I’ll do it. Better have him dead than haunt my conscience.” Ten tightens his hold for a second, and finally pulls away. 

There’s a hint of concern still in Lucas’s expression, hidden in the scrunch of his eyebrows. “You’re sure?”

“I’m not letting that asshole be the reason I get fired. It’ll take a lot more than that to get me out of here.” Ten takes a few steps backwards, towards the double glass doors. 

Lucas quirks a corner of his lips, his posture slacking to a much more casual stance. “Resilience.” The Academy’s one motto. 

“Damn right, resilience.” He calls out, “And, Lucas?”

“Yes?”

“Nobody hears about this.”

Lucas blinks a few times, and snaps into a salute, straightening up to reveal his full height, which makes Ten just slightly glad that he isn’t right next to him. “Yes, sir!”

Ten lets a short laugh pour out of him. “That’s captain to you.”

  
  


Ten’s had to work his way up, and he learned from a very, very young age that nothing comes for free. The amount of laborious work he’s put in towards everything, his schooling, work, training, had proven that his tactic accomplished what he had hoped, albeit exhausting. But it’s gotten him where he has always wanted to be, and that should be enough.

It’s his teenage years that, with no better words, fucked him over. 

Young, naive, Ten. Fresh out of high school with a full-ride scholarship through his training at the Academy’s higher education. Everything he had learned led up to those final few years that would fully certify him as a competent agent. But he’s just gotten out of a demanding high school that fully drained him to the bone, and he couldn’t help but be dragged away into the wrong side of town, with the wrong people, and have his first love be with the worst person for him.

Doyoung had been like him, the same age, the same burning passion for a greater good. But while Ten had the whole rest of his life ready right in front of him, Doyoung lived life step by step, and he never knew if each stone he hopped on would take him forward or crumble beneath him. The thrill in his eyes is what drew Ten to him in the first place, perhaps. That hunger, maybe even mania, that drove Doyoung to insanity.

So maybe Ten fell into the wrong crowd, but at the time, he couldn’t possibly regret it because Doyoung was so good and so bad for him, and he made Ten experience a bundle of emotions that he never knew existed. 

At eighteen years old, Ten fell in love with a boy destined to make it big, like him, but in the opposite industry. And at eighteen, Ten thought he would give up everything to be with Doyoung.

Thankfully, it didn’t happen. Ten was able to leave, but not without a mess of flickering feelings tying them together to this day. Years later, Ten continues to feel it, though it’s a much fainter tug at the heart every so often, but it’s still there. And he’s going to cut it, once and for all, to complete his task and save his sanity.

  
  


“Tell me why I decided to take on being the computer guy for this mission, of all the tens of hundreds of others I could have chosen?”

“Because I begged you or else we would all die,” Winwin mutters, tapping away at his watch. “I swear I was about to quit on the spot when I saw their names on my briefing papers.”

“Wait-” Ten stops walking all of a sudden, and the rest of the team pause as well, though Winwin doesn’t seem too keen on it, glancing at the numbers ticking down on his watch. “You guys went to briefing before us?”

“Yup!” Yangyang chirps up. He’s been hopping the entire length of the hallway they’re headed down. Ten’s sure his vitals must be giving Kun a headache already. “We went to see President Amber too! I was so scared that something happened because this is my first mission and I’m with you guys-”

“Yang,” Winwin scolds, a hand on his shoulder to keep from bouncing for a moment. They hear Kun murmur a _ thank god _ into the headset. “You should probably calm down.”

“Hey, hey. I want to hear this story.” Lucas turns his attention to Yangyang. “Explain, please.”

Yangyang blinks a few times, not used to all his seniors looking at him expectedly. He takes a deep breath, launching right back into his rambling. “Well, the President wanted to know whether the team would be compatible enough to go through with this mission- She said this one is very, very important for the sake of the government, which scared me a little and I wanted to back out, since this is my first mission-”

“Yang, back on track, please,” Winwin says, exasperation seeping into his voice.

“Well, she knew about your, uh, altercation the other day. Wanted to check back with us. Oddly enough, we all said it wouldn’t be a good idea, but I guess she decided we still needed everyone.” Yangyang’s smile blooms across his face, his eyes scrunching slightly. 

Kun sighs over the comm. “Chop chop, people, we’re running low on time. I can guarantee you there’s at least six enemy opps on the other side of that door.”

“Huh, how can you tell?” Yangyang says, eagerly running towards the door.

“Because they’re right behind you now. Watch out!”

It’s another flurry of punches and kicks, slices of the knife cutting through fabric and skin and muscle. Kun’s adamant not to use any guns just yet, in case the sound attracts any other guards. He has long hacked into the security camera system, giving the four a bit more flexibility in their work. 

Ten nearly gets tackled by a stray guard who had recklessly launched themself at the smallest one of the bunch, but Lucas elbows them away from behind, knocking the body into the wall. They slide against the surface and collapse unceremoniously on the ground.

“I saved your hide back there, honey.” Ten doesn’t know how Lucas had the time or audacity to flirtily wink at him, and he considers it both a feat and reckless behavior. “Don’t I get a thank you?”

“Sweetcheeks, you get a thank you if you genuinely save my life, not by being clumsy.”

Lucas knocks another guard down, and even drops his defensive stance for a moment. “Hey, that guy could have had a knife and stabbed you right then and there.” He wiggles his eyebrows to add effect. “You just don’t want to admit I helped you.”

Ten sends the last opp flying much further than the rest with an overcompensated kick, and claps the dirt off his hands. “Babe, keep telling yourself that and maybe it’ll come true.” He sends a just-as-cheeky wink back.

Winwin sighs to himself, letting out huff. “Can you two just shut up for just a bit? So I can get my sanity back for a hot second?”

  
  


The reach a split in the dark hallways, to which Winwin immediately grabs Yangyang and pushes him down one way, shooting Ten the finger without bothering to look back. Yangyang seems to try to turn back out of confusion, but Winwin has a hard grip on his shoulder. Ten rolls his eyes and heads down the other way, Lucas trailing along.

“How are you feeling about this?” Lucas says, after an uncomfortable while of silence passes.

“I want it over with. As long as I get the final shot, I don’t care.” Ten takes a deep breath to calm his nerves, shaking the shock out of his system. “The sooner, the better.”

Ten’s shotgun hangs on his belt, just within reach at all times. It gives him more of a sense of safety than having a knife by his side, for some reason. 

“We’ll save it for you, then,” Lucas mumbles under his breath, and Ten can’t help but smile a little. 

Lucas is good. He’s innocent, as innocent as a military-trained student can be, and his pure motivation is to do better, for his friends and his people. He hadn’t been through what Ten had naively fallen for, and that’s what makes him such a prominent figure in Ten’s past few months. 

If Ten can’t kill, if he can’t bring himself to do it, there’s Lucas. They’re in good hands.

  
  


Lucas spots the guards first, a scrappy bunch hanging leisurely off the walls next to the reinforced metal door he assumes keeps something that’s at least mildly important. Through there should be a shortcut to the main headquarters where their target would hopefully be. Yangyang and Winwin, on the other hand, followed the less guarded, but much longer route around the maze that’s guaranteed access to at least the security control room. 

“Let’s make a bet.” Ten zeroes in on the tallest guard, a bandana wrapped around his face that has fallen down to his neck as he speaks to his friends. “Whoever takes down the most the quickest, wins.” 

They count eight more lurking around the corner as they sneak against the wall.

“Guys, this is a _ mission- _”

Lucas lights up with mischief in his eyes. “What’s on the line?”

“If you win, you’re allowed to brag. If I win…” Ten pauses to deliberate. “You buy me a new Rolex.”

“If _ I _ win, I want a kiss,” Lucas says, a cheeky grin already on his lips. “And the bragging rights.”

A chorus of gagging sounds with a, “Seriously?” fill the comms.

Ten smirks. “Deal. Kun, you keep score.”

An offended scoff pass through the earpiece, finished with a, “I hate you both.”

Lucas jeers silently as they watch the guards, surveying the area. They each had a rifle strapped to their back, decently harmless if Lucas and Ten work quickly. “Babe, I can take all of them down with my eyes closed.”

“Oh, it’s on, Wong.”

“I can’t believe they’re playing a game!” Yangyang says, and Ten can hear the pout in his voice. “Why can’t we have fun?”

Winwin sighs through the comms. “Because they’re dumb and are probably going to die because of it. 

“If I go down, I’d rather it be because I’m trying to beat you though,” Yangyang whines back.

“Focus, you guys!” Kun hisses.

Their only rule is to keep the bullets to a minimum, which puts Ten at a slight advantage when he reaches for the knives strapped to his thigh. Lucas tucks his shotgun back into the holster, preferring his natural strength over any weaponry. They don’t want to kill anyone. Yet.

He targets the one with his back turned from them first, lunging forward to slash at his calves with the knife, and his smaller stature plays as his benefit, for the rest of the guards don’t notice him until the man collapses with a yelp. Ten bares his teeth, dodging towards his next victim.

Lucas himself seems to be doing well, elbowing and jabbing the opps, taking them down one by one with hefty punches and kicks. Ten launches himself onto the back of another, almost tempted to just snap his neck and get it over with, but uses him as leverage to take down one more before increasing the tension of his chokehold on the opp so he would pass out. 

“Kun, what’s the count?” Ten huffs, and he can’t seem to catch his breath because of the exhilaration coursing throughs his lungs

“Four, three, to Lucas.” He sounds bored. But of course, this must be the most entertaining part for him this mission _ by far _.

“Where’s the last fucker?” Ten hisses, narrowing his eyes at the hallways around him, with no sign of life besides the two of them.

“He sprinted, I think. The cam doesn’t pick up any sign of life near anymore…”

“Well, fuck.” Ten ignores the warmth spreading through his chest, an unconscious response to what losing meant. Instead, he pats his wrist and sighs, “I guess I’ll stick with the old watch.”

He focuses on unlocking the vault door in front of them, while Lucas leans over his shoulder, and when he speaks, Ten can feel his lips brush the shell of his ear. “So… you owe me a little something.”

“_ Not now Luca- _”

Footsteps. The two jump, hands immediately falling to their weapons.

“Kun!”

There’s no reply, and Lucas pulls out his shotgun with shaky hands, aiming into the darkness. They’re pressed back to back, and Ten reaches behind him to grapple for another gun on Lucas’s hip. 

“I swear, Kun, you’re gonna get us killed-” 

Nobody moves, _ nobody breathes _ for a moment. 

But then, a childish voice rings out. “Dad!”

“Holy fuck-” Lucas whispers and drops the gun to his side. “That wasn’t funny.”

Yangyang bounces his way over and launches himself onto Ten, who barely catches him in time. Winwin walks over with a smug look on his face. “You needed a little scare for all the flirting shit you were pulling earlier.”

“We weren’t-” Ten starts, but is interrupted by Lucas saying, “Fair enough.”

They work the way through the vault door quickly with Kun’s careful instruction, but they’re met with yet another fork in the road- well, hallways. (They’re endless. Ten’s dreadfully reminded of his time in high school.)

They hear a series of excited snaps, a little quirk of Kun’s whenever he finally accesses useful information. “I have the camera feed of where the Boss is. A circular theater, of sorts. There seems to be higher floor access too. Lucas, Yangyang, head down the right, it’ll bring you to the ladder to the top so you can get an overview, in case anything goes wrong. Winwin, Ten, follow the left to the nearest door you can unlock.”

This is it. Winwin nods to them with a grim face, Lucas sending Ten a worried expression that he promptly ignores to shove his knife back into his sheath. No pity. He’s going to carry through with his mission, if that’s the last thing he does.

  
  


He can’t do it. 

One glance at the familiar silhouette of the body, the shadow of the arch of his nose and the dip to his lips, the long chin jutting out, and Ten’s overwhelmed by unwanted memories that nearly make him freeze. Winwin has a death grip on his wrist, to keep him grounded, and Ten’s glad that at least that mild pain will make sure his focus doesn’t wane too much.

They’re hidden behind the chairs at the back of the circular lecture hall, the center stage where Doyoung and his croonies are speaking in hushed, hurried voices. 

Ten sucks in a breath and refuses to let it out when the men stop abruptly, and as if on cue, they turn to look directly at Ten and Winwin’s hiding spot. 

“I know you’re here for me,” Doyoung says, and his smile is sinister, fit for a man that holds a record for the most assassinations performed in a month. How Ten managed to find himself in his arms every night for the longest time, he can’t quite recall, and he doesn’t want to. “Come out here, _ Ten _.”

“I thought I fucking-” Kun mutters through the earpiece. “I left a hole. Fuck.”

Doyoung is a siren, a smooth voice that hurts and haunts and forces Ten to stand, even when Winwin refuses to let his arm go, tugging uselessly at him to crouch back down.

“I’ve missed you very much, love.” Doyoung’s lips twist into a sneer, a darkness bordering lunacy clicking behind his eyes, and he extends an arm to Ten. 

So he leaps over the rows of chairs to approach Doyoung, and his guards lift their rifles, aiming for the heart and the head.

“It’s been a long time, Ten. The last time we met, you had betrayed us. _ Me _.” Doyoung’s hand is still opened to him, but one step and his head might be blown off. “I want to forgive you, so very much, my darling.”

His eye twitches when Ten doesn’t move an inch, and he drops his hand to his side, loose. The guards let their weapons fall in accordance to the arm. “But you must realize, I’m not the forgiving type.”

Ten holds his posture, mentally mapping where all of his arson is stored on his body. A short reach across his chest gets him to the knife at his hip, but that’s hardly large enough to defend himself against so many. A gun would help, but his shotgun is low on bullets and he can’t possibly reload now.

“I know why you’re here, of course,” Doyoung muses, taking a couple steps back, clasping his hands in front of his body. The sleeves of his suit are rolled up, and Ten notices that he had added to the tattoo sleeves since the last time they’ve met, that the ink reaching his fingers now, curling on the edge of his palm, but not past that. “And I see you’ve gone a long way.”

Ten doesn’t dare speak.

“But tell me, how did they let someone associated so _ closely _ to me join the government agency?”

His breath only hitches for a fraction of a second, but it gives away everything

“You hacked your reports. God, you’re still a genius, Ten.” Doyoung steps closer, _ closer _, drags a finger down the side of Ten’s face, lifts his chin. He remembers this all too vividly, the feeling of soft lips on him, all over him. 

But he knows this trick. Ten’s grabbing for the knife before Doyoung can stab into Ten’s unprotected side.

Doyoung’s dense laughter rings through the quick second it takes for all his guards to lift their weapons again, for Winwin to expose himself with a rifle aimed right for Doyoung’s head.

“You know I don’t want to kill you,” Ten whispers, and he twists his wrist to send the knife between them clatter to the ground.

“You must be insane to not want me dead.”

He has a mission to fulfill, and emotions are supposed to be kept from the mix, but Ten can’t bring himself to do it anymore. Ten at eighteen was reckless, but he also lived to love people and places and things. And he doesn’t want to kill those dreams, because Doyoung’s existence constituted a good portion of him before, and if Doyoung dies at his hand, Ten won’t have anyone else to blame except himself.

There’s nothing he can do, though, when there are several guns ready to blow his brains out, he can’t kill without being killed, and maybe it would be worth it, to sacrifice himself for the greater good. There’s heavy breathing coming through his earpiece, and that makes him remember that he’s not alone, he has a _ team. _

“Ten, you’ve been good to me,” Doyoung says, wistful, soft. “I hate to do this, but you’re in the way.”

Ten’s comm goes static for a moment, and fear soaks him through, before a short whisper says, “Duck.”

He doesn’t hesitate, there’s no time to with his life on the line and no other hope besides the grunt of Lucas’s voice and a heavy rain of bullets. Some guards fall on impact, but the two nearest to Doyoung tackle him down and shields him.

“I’m going in,” Winwin says, followed by Yangyang shouting, “Can I go too?”

Ten focuses on his goal, grapples helplessly at his knives and elbows the guards off of Doyoung, trusting someone to deal with them eventually. There’s a struggle of limbs, but Ten pins him down with his legs and holds the knife to Doyoung’s pale throat. One quick slice and it could all be-

“You’re lucky I’m the one here instead of the others.” Ten tilts the edge to dig into the skin there, to draw blood but not kill. Doyoung’s eyes go wide, breath hitching. “Today isn’t your day. I hope you find it in yourself to change.”

“Mercy doesn’t look good on you, Ten.”

That fuels Ten into stabbing the knife into the thick muscle of Doyoung’s shoulder, hardly twitching when Doyoung lets out a cry of agony. He quickly peels himself off the ground, dodging his way out of the action.

“Move out!” Kun instructs, and Ten doesn’t offer another glance behind him after he sprints for the exit, Winwin close behind.

  
  


“So… How are you feeling?” Lucas starts hesitantly. “Better? Worse?”

“Alright, I suppose.” Ten takes a deep breath, and lets it out with a shaky huff, but he’s not nervous anymore. He’s gotten the closure he so desperately seeked, but there’s a sense of regret nagging at him. Maybe he should have just ended it, once and for all, but having that blood on his hands… “Did I make the right decision?”

Lucas places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You made a call that even the best agent in the world would have difficulty making. Killing him would make you just as horrible as him.”

“I was like him. I am.” Ten’s voice falls quieter and quieter after each word. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“But you chose not be on that side. You have the willpower to turn away from temptation.” Lucas’s eyes are so bright with hope. “You made your call.”

Ten purses his lips and closes his eyes for a brief second, reconciling himself. He’s good. Lucas is good, and Ten, for once, chooses something that he knows with certainty will make him better. 

“I believe I owe you something, then.”

“Oh, I was kidding about that-”

“Too late.”

He has to reach up to grab Lucas by his jacket collar, tugging gently to pull him down, and meets his lips halfway. 

It’s not quite comfortable to tilt his head so far back to reach Lucas, but he’s sure his partner isn’t having it any better than him considering how far down he has to bend. Ten kisses with fervor and dwindling hatred and a hint of excitement. And maybe a hint of a smile that he has to fight to contain.

He kisses Lucas breathless and wraps his arms around Lucas’s neck, pressing their bodies together, then leaning in for another. Again and again, he would do it.

  
  


“Fucking finally,” Kun grumbles. “No more fucking flirting. That was giving me a headache.” He crumples the half-filled resignation form and tosses it into his wastebasket, but it misses, hitting the wall and bouncing to the center of the room.

There’s a reason he didn’t want to be a field agent, including the fact that he can’t even throw a fucking football right.

The door of his office creaks open, revealing President Amber herself. “The mission went well, Kun!” She notices the stray paper in an otherwise impeccable room, and picks it up with dainty fingers. 

Kun winces to himself when Amber raises an eyebrow as she unfolds the sheet. “I hope you find it in yourself to take on another mission with this team, considering the success.”

“I’d rather not-”

Amber narrows her eyes at him, then scrunches the paper back together, tossing it over her shoulder. It lands in the wastebasket with a quiet thud. “_Agent Kun _.”

He gulps, but nods with a fearful smile tugging at his lips. “Yes, of course, Madam President, I would love to.”

“Good.” The clicking of heels echoes as she crosses the office to leave. Before she exits completely, though, she pauses with a hand on the door, a foot out the room already, and says, “And make sure the two of them aren’t all over each other next time, please.”

Kun barely waits for the door to shut completely before launching himself at the resignation form in the trash can.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on  
[twitter](https://twitter.com/johnshuaa)  
[curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/johnshuaa)


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